


Stained .

by redstringraven (sirimiri)



Series: lovely mind . [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Light Angst, Prompt Fic, Snow, Stand Alone, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23495671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirimiri/pseuds/redstringraven
Summary: A city blanketed by snow. Beneath the white lies vaulted ceilings more beautiful than any. Even broken things can bewitch a tender heart. ||a one-shot for an RP-born otp.
Relationships: Dolcetto | Dorochet/Rosé Thomas
Series: lovely mind . [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690540
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Stained .

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt for this fic came [from this post](https://redstringraven.tumblr.com/post/614564681304145920/the-signs-and-cities-ii), using dolcetto's zodiac to pick from the list.
> 
> rosecetto is a ship that developed from RPing with the wonderful [stillblooming](https://stillblooming.tumblr.com/). i'm super grateful to have met her and that she's still a part of my life after all this time. thank you for being silly, super sweet, and supportive.

* * *

She’s not home.

The small apartment’s windows are dark, but the curtains aren’t drawn. It’s a bit early for an afternoon nap, anyway. None of this would be confusing--much less, alarming--had he not already checked the food kitchen. Rosé worked there most days (often far longer than she needed to), and finding her two usual haunts vacant was worrisome. Some might call it a bit paranoid, but when it came to people with connections to _him_ , it’s almost necessary.

Dolcetto scratches his jaw, exhaling as he stepped away from the roof ledge. He gives the apartment across the street another glance over. Nothing changes.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. He rotates enough to eye the surrounding buildings of Liore--the horizon--unsure of what, exactly, it is he’s looking to find.

Liore is still an unfamiliar landscape; he’d smuggled himself into the city a handful of times since meeting Rosé but had never needed to venture further than specified meeting points to trade supplies or information. The town is still a complete shit show. He’d heard talk of riots, a bunch of insane things that went down after a priest had been exposed for a fraud. Just looking over the place, it’s evident that the wound is still scabbing and vulnerable to opening right back up.

But the city’s problems aren’t his, and they’re not why he’s here.

Rosé had to be somewhere nearby. Dol could always wait for her to return, but he’d be running the risk of being seen. While it’s doubtful he’d be recognized by anyone around here, it’s not a chance worth taking.

Where the hell else should he… --wait a sec.

There’s a tall building a few blocks away. A big piece of the side had been knocked out, and it looked as though the city hadn’t made an effort to patch it up. Dol eyes the stone scar, taking a few slow steps in its direction. Hard to tell if there’s much movement from where he is, but… there’s a sensation he can’t quite explain.

You’d think after well over a decade of sharing a body with these dogs that he’d have words for the various effects a sixth sense had on him. There’s a pull in his chest. Like… yeah. _That_ building is where he needs to go.

So that’s what he does.

Navigating roofs--finding various routes to free-run the city--is a bit more challenging than usual. It’s winter, after all. Hidden beneath piles of snow are patches of ice, and it’s always risky business to expect a landing that won’t put you on your ass. He imagines humans would find it more trouble than it’s worth; the dogs provide a higher body temperature, though… _heh_. One of the perks. The chill nips at his hands and fingers as he hooks them over a ledge and hikes himself up and over, but he pays it little mind. It’s refreshing, even if it’s kinda painful. Time without seasons teaches you to appreciate even the worst of what the weather has to offer.

It takes him only a few minutes to reach one of the buildings across from his destination. Dol lets himself skid to a stop and raises a foot just enough so the ball of his boot braces against the roof’s ledge. It kicks a few clumps of snow over and into the alley. A quick downward glance ensures him this is no big deal; the streets were empty in this area (right now, anyway).

From where he stood, the building looked about the same. He didn’t see movement, didn’t hear movement… there’s a crisp wetness to the air, courtesy of recent weather.

Dol figures he should turn around, head back to the apartment and either wait or start making plans to head back to Dublith. But, again… there’s that pull. The building is still where he needs to go.

 _It’d be nice if you guys could use your words,_ Dol thinks (to the dogs), huffing to himself as he finds the nearest fire escape and makes his way down. _Guess you don’t really understand human words to begin with, though… pain in the ass._

His boots hit the snow with a muffled _PMFF_ , and he waits for a second or two before dashing across the alley and ducking through the building’s hole.

Dol turns in a slow circle, taking in the damage, seeing glimpses of what had once been. It looks like a cathedral of some kind. A lot fancier than the little chapel back in Yuflam. Where they had wooden walls, grass fields and a chalkboard, this one had sleek stone, high ceilings and more space than it knew what to do with.

It’s showier than it needs to be, like a kid out to prove something. A lot of wasted space for crowds that may or may not have existed in the past. He frowns to himself, eyes wandering the engravings and dusty decor. His nose twitches.

There’s a new scent in the air. It’s warm… the smell of bread fresh from the oven, herbs, and vanilla.

Dol looks to a wide set of open doors and into a room lined with pews. Even from where he stands, he can see a looming statue at the front of the room; colors are a long-gone experience for him, but he imagines that it may have been white marble. He wanders to the threshold, eyeing its interior. And, sure enough, there’s a familiar figure sitting in the front-most pew.

 _...weird. Didn’t know she was religious_. Pretty sure she’d never mentioned it in passing when they’d meet. Dol wonders if he should leave her be, as this could be a private and personal matter. But… _again_ \-- there’s that damn pull.

Dol rounds the door and approaches the front of the room from the side with the most shadow. Something’s unsettling about approaching the statue head-on. As he gets closer, he can see where bits and pieces have chipped away from the crown, shoulders, strings of hair, and tips of the fingers and staff. Pigeons had made a mess of it where dust and ruin hadn’t. There might be an air of sadness to the sight if it weren’t creepy.

He slows his steps as he reaches the front pew, careful not to do anything that might spook her.

Rosé sits with her hands folded on her lap, her eyes cast upward to the statue or a gap in the ceiling, where slivers of sunlight spill through and pool over the old marble. There’s a distance in her gaze. Her body’s here, but her mind’s taken to other places. He sees hints of exhaustion on her features; sad eyes, dark patches beneath them, and a small twitch at the corners of her lips. The sort that suggests she may be near tears.

He doesn’t want to interrupt or intrude, but… he also doesn’t want to just stand there like a creep. Let alone let her cry when he could do something about it.

Dol folds his arms across his chest and clears his throat. Rosé jumps, her head turning in his direction. Her posture relaxes, and she smiles despite whatever’s weighing her down.

“Dolcetto! Y… what... are you doing here?”

Her tone is riddled more with confusion than anything else. Dol shrugs, side-stepping to lean against one of the remaining columns. “Thought I’d check-in. This time of year can be rough… or, that might just be th’ farm kid in me.”

“Oh,” Rosé breathes. She nods, looking down at her hands. Her fingers fidget idly. “You’re… you’re not wrong. Winter has always brought its fair share of… problems. Especially now. The city’s still… healing. As I’m sure, you’ve noticed.”

“Yeah.” Dol frowns. He tilts his head up, glancing toward the statue. “... who’s this big fella? Looks important.”

She’s quiet. Dol winces, wondering if he should have asked. He opens his mouth, about to change the subject, when she shakes her head. “It’s… no one,” she says softly. “Not anymore.”

“...ah. Right. ...got it.”

Sore subject. Drop-kicking that out of the room… sort of.

Before Dol can stop himself, he’s asking the obvious: “So. If he ain’t important, why’re you here? It’s fuckin’ cold out, Rosé, y’ shouldn’t be sittin’ in a rottin’ building that’s half-frozen and drafty as hell. You’re invitin’ the elements t’come get ya.”

“I… I don’t know.” It’s an answer he doesn’t expect, and, honestly, it looks like she hadn’t expected it, either. Rosé’s expression grows puzzled as her brows wrinkle. She presses her lips together, palms firm against her lap. “This… this _place_. It used to bring me so much peace. I… I thought that, maybe. Maybe despite everything… that maybe it still would.” She shakes her head. “It’s so… _broken_ , now. A shell. Even the glass-- it’s…”

She sniffs, running the back of her knuckles under her nose and muttering a faint apology. Dol’s frown softens, and he looks away in a useless attempt to offer her privacy.

“Of course, it wouldn’t help,” she continues in a whisper. “Not when… everything it stood for was just a lie.”

Dol shifts his jaw. He exhales through his nose, turning his eyes upward to the ceiling. Sure enough, he can see that the canopy is made of windows rather than rafters and stone. He can make out forms, shapes, and images in the glass. Though the layers of recent snow have made them just as dark as any ceiling. It may be white, but it’s still thick enough to block out light.

Rosé sniffed again, sighing after. “... -- I-I’m… I’m sorry, Dolcetto. Y-you came all this way, and here I am, just… not making sense. You’re probably tired.”

“Nah. S’just another day for me,” Dol said. He pushed off the column, undoing the belt of his robe and shrugging it off his shoulders. Rosé blinked as he offered it to her, hesitating before accepting. Dol nodded. “Maybe put that on or somethin’. It ain’t much, but it’s another layer, so you don’t freeze.”

“Th… thank you,” she said. She looked up. “But--! Aren’t you cold?”

“ _Eh!_ Been colder.” Sort of true but not critical. “Sit tight. M’gonna see if I can get some light in here.”

“...what?”

But he’s already moving.

Dol sprints out the doors and back through the hole, ducking out of it despite Rosé calling after him. He twists on a heel and cranes his head back, scanning the walls for anything that looked like he might be able to wedge some fingers or the toe of his boot through. Sure enough, some of the crumbled walls have made a slice of the building… ehhh, ‘climbable’ if you were into risks. Fortunately, for better or worse, he was.

Dol dusts his hands off, shaking out his arms and shoulders before darting to the wall. He springs into the air--both hands find purchase, as does one foot. A split second is taken to right himself, and he’s off. The ice and snow make for a slippery scale, and he nearly blunders a time or two before reaching the top. With a grunt and another dust of his hands, he’s on the cathedral roof and jogging the short distance to the sloped sections of snow.

 _Alright, dumbass,_ he thinks, planting his hands on his hips. _Y’got yourself up here. ...how you gonna pull this off?_

Come to think of it, he probably should have asked if this would be even remotely helpful or comforting, given that the cathedral, itself, seemed to be causing more harm than good. _Shit._ ...too late, now.

He lets himself slide a small distance down the roof’s slope, leaning back to wedge his heels into the deeper snow toward the bottom. It’s thicker along the ledges. Means that’s probably what’s keeping the rest of it from sliding down.

Dol pulls his sword from the sheath and flips it in his palm, eyeing the tiny mounds of snow and ice gathered on the building frame. He studies it. Nods to himself.

Then, he sticks the end of the blade between the ice and the stone, pushing, so it angles the snow and pressing forward. Boy is he thankful for growing up on a farm that experienced snowfall; he’d been ready for the weight most might not expect, grunting when the thick powder resists for a beat before sliding off and over the edge. And, as though to drive home an age-old metaphor, the snow on higher levels of the slope began to snowball and slide downward, rapidly picking up momentum as it went. By the time he reaches the end of the ledge--nearly stumbling forward when the sword no longer faces resistance--he has to pause for a breath and wipe sweat from his brow.

Dol turns around after a moment, catching the last of the snow as it slid away and fell to the ground below. He smiled, flicking his sword clean of slosh. He could do the other side--and he’s about to cross that way--but Rosé calls from below, her voice carrying through the gap that haloed the statue.

“--DOLCETTO!!! Did you--?! Oh my--!!” He hears her laugh, and his smile softens. “--Come down here! Please!”

Dol jogs to the hole, huffing when he slips a little on a sheet of ice. He kneels, peering into the cathedral. “--Be quiet, wouldja? Can’t have the whole city knowin’ my name, Rosé!”

“--O-oh! Sorry!” She calls back.

“Rosé, I’m pullin’ your leg. Ain’t anyone around.”

“Oh.” A pause. “W-well! Come down here, you have to see this!”

“Sure, sure.”

He COULD turn around and go back the way he came, but… where’s the fun in that? Dol shifts, hooking his hands around the hole’s edge, and plummeting down.

His boots hit the statue’s shoulder with a thud that echos throughout the empty room, and Rosé let out a high-pitched squeak from below. “--D-DOLCETTO, you’ re-- _why are you_ \--?!”

“I got it, Rosé!” Dol says, giving her a thumbs-up before dropping onto the forearm. His boots slide across the marble, bringing him to the crook of the elbow. “C’mon, you’ve seen me climb and jump off all sorts ‘a shit back in Dublith. This is child’s pl--”

And there goes the universe with its shitty sense of humor.

Dol drops to land on the statue’s knee, expecting the same amount of friction as he’d hit on the previous two levels. But, no. He learns a heartbeat too late that the statue’s knee is slick with ice, and the moment his feet make impact, they fly out from under him.

“-- **FUCK** \--”

The world spins briefly. Dol’s shoulder clips something, then he bellyflops the stone floor with a _THMP!_ that reverberates in his ears, through to his skull. It takes a few seconds for the buzz to die down and his vision to clear up, and when it does, Rosé is knelt beside him, her hands hovering a few inches from his shoulder.

Dol grunts and raises a hand, the gesture stopping her from making contact. She quickly sits back and puts her hands in her lap, though, based on her expression, this is the opposite of what she wants to do. He takes a moment to press a hand against the side of his head before pushing onto his haunches, rubbing sore sections around his neck and shoulders with a groan. “... well, that coulda gone better.”

“Are you alright?” Rosé asked. She leaned forward, clearly looking him over for anything that looked broken, split, or bleeding. Dol nods with a nonchalant wave of his wrist.

“Yeah, yeah. _Heh_. Nothin’s hurt, but whatever’s left ‘f my pride. Ain’t a big deal. Worst case, I’ll have a helluva bruise tomorrow.”

He looks up, and he pauses. She’s pulled the robe on but left it untied. It’s already a larger size than it needs to be, but it somehow manages to make her look smaller. Dol clears his throat, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Anyway. Uh. How’s it look? --the windows?”

“--Oh!” Rosé straightened, turning her eyes to the ceiling. He doesn’t follow her gaze, letting his linger on her face as some of the fear and worry melts into warmth. She tilts her head, her smile widening sweetly, and she inhales through her nose--holds the breath. Then, slowly, she releases it. “I love stained glass. Even… after all of this. I-it’s so beautiful.”

“Heh,” he breathes. He rolls his shoulders back, allowing his posture to relax.

Rosé looks at him again, and their eyes meet. There’s a jolt in his chest--and he realizes his breath has caught--when her smile fades ever so slightly. “... aren’t you going to look?”

“Uh. Wouldn’t matter either way,” Dol said. He shrugged, gesturing vaguely at his face. “Lack of color and all.”

“Oh… -- _o-oh!_ ” She went stiff, copper cheeks darkening as she gripped the sides of his robe. “--Oh, no, I knew--Oh, Dolcetto, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean… _nh_.”

She huffs, pressing her palms to her face. Dol shifts his jaw. He almost… almost wants to reach out and take her hands down. But his fingers twitch at the very thought; nervousness twists his stomach, and he closes his hands in his lap.

“Hey,” he says, snorting a chuckle. “It’s okay, Rosé. Really. M’just glad it’s brighter in here. That statue was lookin’ ominous and shit, all shrouded in shadow. What kinda god is he supposed to be, anyway?”

Rosé lowered her hands and looked up at him. She blinked once. Then, her lips twitched upward, and she giggled an airy little sound. Dol felt his own lips slant into a lopsided smirk, and he chuckled again. “...what? I say somethin’ stupid?”

“N-no, it…” She snickered, shaking her head and hiding her smile behind a hand. “...he was the sun god.”

Dol blinked. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he barked out a laugh. “--Fuck--seriously?”

“Y-yeah!”

“Jeez, he has **one** job, and he can’t even keep his own room lit? No wonder he got fired.”

Rosé laughed. “You’re awful.”

“Hey, you’re the one who keeps usin’ the past tense,” Dol said, thumbing back at the statue. “Y’know you’ve fucked up when someone nice as you talks like that right in front of ya.”

It’s a small slip, but… a slip all the same. A heartfelt compliment right after trying to cheer her up? He’s letting down too many walls. Leaving too many weak spots vulnerable and exposed. _You’re a jackass for a reason,_ he tells himself, despite all but drinking in the way she smiles at him--bashfully tucks her bangs behind one ear.

“...still. I wish you could see,” Rosé says. She looks to the ceiling. “There’re blues, reds, greens... even purples. All casting pools of rainbows on the wall.” Her expression softens as she rotates enough to look at the patches of light across from them. “...how silly of me to forget you can still find beauty in broken things.”

It feels as though someone’s stuck a hand right through his ribs and grabbed whatever remained of his heart. The feeling is somehow warm--comforting--yet terrifying, like looking into the night sky and realizing how fucking small you are, how short your time is, and somehow still being at peace with it.

A useless feeling, really. One he shouldn’t act on, no matter how far it burrowed into the shards of his soul. How could a heart like hers ever look at a heart like his and see something worth loving?

Dol looks away. He rubs his collar, inhaling and easing back onto his feet.

“C’mon,” he says, gesturing for her to stand with him. “I dunno how long you’ve been out 'n around here, but we should getcha somewhere warmer. Y’come back to your apartment, and I’ll brew us some coffee or somethin’. Deal?”

Rosé turns to look at him, blinking once before she smiles and nods. She stands up, pauses, and reaches to grasp the flaps of his robe. “--Do you want this back?”

“Nah. Keep it ’til we get to your place.”

“If you’re sure...”

“You wouldn’t have it if I wasn’t.”

She chuckles. “That’s true...” She looks up at the glass ceiling. “... thank you, Dolcetto.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dol said, stepping past her to head for the doors. “Seriously, don’t. If word gets out I’m doin’ favors, Blondie and Cain are gonna start beggin’ for me to do their chores.”

“I thought you already were.”

“--Oh- _HO!!_ Someone knows what’s up. About fucking time. ...--I shouldn’t be swearin’ in a church, should I?”

Rosé laughs again, and they exit the old building side-by-side, leaving only tracks in the glass-colored snow.


End file.
